by Jamie Beck
“Maybe. Back in Vermont there’s Emily’s Bridge, which is really the Gold Brook Bridge in Stowe. But people say a girl named Emily has been haunting it since the ’60s.” Wyatt shrugged, utterly serious. “Haven’t you ever had the feeling that something else was in the room with you? Felt a shift in energy?”
Given the gravity of his hushed tone, she had to consider it. “If I have, I probably assumed it was the heat kicking on or a draft from the old windows.” Emma kept walking toward the kitchen, thankful Mari’s stupid cameras, which looked a little spooky at night, weren’t rolling. “I wouldn’t have taken you for someone who believes in haunted houses.”
“You mock me.”
“No. It’s just . . . there’s no proof they exist.”
“There’s no proof that God exists, either, yet most people believe in Him.” Wyatt grinned. “Based on the cross in my room, I’d guess that includes you.”
Emma frowned, imagining her mother’s horror at the comparison. “I suppose I can see the analogy.”
“They say ghost activity is more prevalent around kids and people with high energy. You’re pretty calm and reserved. Maybe that’s why you don’t feel them.”
She shot him a droll look as she punched open the kitchen door. “Are you saying I’m too boring to haunt?”
“No! Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.” Wyatt stopped chuckling, his expression turning solemn. “I don’t think you’re boring at all, Emma. In fact, you’re rather interesting.”
“Yeah, right.” Emma snorted and pointed at a stool, upon which Wyatt then parked his cute butt. She proceeded to the refrigerator to collect most of the items she’d need, then grabbed an egg-poaching pan. Interesting? Not a word ever associated with her, and she knew it. He’d say anything to get in her pants. Men.
“Why don’t you believe me?” Wyatt yawned.
“Um, that yawn, for starters.” She sliced a thick piece of bread for the toaster.
“You’re not boring me, I’m just exhausted from training all week.”
“Then let me feed you so you can get some sleep.” Emma cracked two eggs in the pan and then quickly dissected an avocado and fanned the slices onto a plate. She could feel Wyatt watching her work, but wouldn’t risk looking at him. If she met his gaze, he might see something in her eyes. Something that would tell him how much she liked his company. That would reveal how lonely she could get, and how something as simple and nonsexual as this quiet conversation could mean so much. So much that her heart fairly ached from it.
“You can change the subject, but I meant what I said. Some people have bold personalities, others create things, and a few make fashion statements.” Wyatt pointedly glanced at her slippers with a grin, then his expression turned serious. “You are like an unsolved mystery. You may be quiet, but when you speak you never hold back. You’re sharp and certain despite your shyness. The contrast is what’s so interesting, and I’m sure there’s much more I haven’t even seen.”
Emma clasped the opening of her robe, suddenly feeling quite exposed. She averted her gaze and checked the eggs, buttered his toast, and sprinkled cayenne over the plate. Only his gentle snicker made her look up.
“I’ve embarrassed you.” He looked at her, handsome as ever in the still of night, his haunting, green-brown eyes glowing. “But it’s true. Wish I had more time to get to know you better, Emma. Something tells me I’m really missing out.”
Her chest throbbed, almost as if preparing for her to weep, which made no sense. Who cried in the face of a compliment? But the pang deepened.
“Thanks.” Not trusting herself to get too close, Emma slid the plate toward him without budging her feet. Uncomfortable being the center of anyone’s attention, let alone his, she deflected in an effort to resume control over her emotions. “Seems like you’ve had several great training days since the avalanche. I guess having Ryder participate is helping you. He’s handling it all better than before, too.”
“I knew he’d be fine once he jumped in. Just needed a little push to get past his anxiety.”
While Wyatt cut into his meal, Emma wondered if Ryder was just putting on a good show for his brother. She kept her suspicions to herself this time, for a change.
After swallowing a mouthful of food, Wyatt glanced up with a satisfied smile. Emma’s chest tightened again because she’d made him smile. Well, her food had, anyway. “This is excellent. Love the kick from the pepper.”
“Thank you.” Emma proceeded to clean the pan and counter while Wyatt ate. Maybe she didn’t excite him quite like Alexa had, but she could give him comfort. She’d always been good at giving people that much, and she knew it to be the more lasting, reliable way to prove one’s feelings. In today’s Tinder world, sex often didn’t mean much, but friendship still did. “How’s Trip working out? I bet he loves being filmed.”
Wyatt nodded. “He does. He’s a damn amazing skier, too. It’s easier for smaller guys like me to pull off certain kinds of tricks, but he’s got no fear. Shoots right off the edge of anything. Rarely screws up, although he had a massive yard sale this week. Mari loved it.”
“Why?” Emma thought about how much Kelsey would hate to see Trip tumble. Mostly because she’d worry about his safety, but also because she’d know his pride had been wounded. If Mari made Trip look bad in this film, Kelsey would be furious. In a showdown between Kelsey and Mari, Emma’s money would be on Kelsey.
“I get the feeling my story isn’t enough for her. She needs the film to be popular, so she craves drama to make it more exciting. Keeps pestering me for really personal information, too.” He shook his head and brought his plate to the sink. “Maybe I’m paranoid. I haven’t had the best luck with reporters and media.”
“I always thought you were quite the media darling, with your good looks and talent.” The words slipped past her lips before she’d thought about the implication.
Wyatt turned slowly and stared at her, head slightly cocked.
“Good looks, huh?” When a slow smile spread across his face, her heart swelled. If he tried to kiss her now, she’d let him. That truth shot heat to her cheeks. Shoot. At this rate, she’d never make it through the next three weeks without giving in to temptation. “But media darling is not near true. When I’d win a medal, all the coverage would be positive. Otherwise, people looked for controversy, and if they couldn’t find it, they’d stir some up. Prod for competition between Ryder and me, hoping to uncover a rift. Or they’d paint me as a party boy, drinking and carousing my way through resorts.”
Emma bit back a remark about him and partying. She’d seen him in that element, despite the fact that he didn’t remember. Had it ever been fair to paint him with one brush when his entire teen and early adulthood had consisted almost entirely of significant accomplishments and rewards? After all, what twenty-two-year-old wouldn’t have loved celebrating his win in a bar full of adoring women? But maybe he’d changed a bit in the three years since then.
“That kind of coverage always bothered my mom, so I really can’t have it now, when she’s still coming to terms with Ryder’s injuries. This film has to be about the work, the sport, the comeback. Not about me and Ryder, or drinks or girls or any of that. Maybe I’m paranoid, but having Mari looking over my shoulder all the time makes me nervous.”
Watching Wyatt this past week had given her another perspective. One she was glad she hadn’t known before she created Dallas. Here, in real life, he’d shown discipline, a willingness to admit mistakes, commitment, and love for his brother. For a guy of only twenty-five, he seemed to be maturing. And like her, his mother mattered to him. He didn’t want to be the cause of her pain, which was another thing they shared in common.
Emma suddenly envisioned a nightmare scenario where her pen name was discovered and publicized. Although that wouldn’t make headlines or raise eyebrows anywhere outside of Sterling Canyon, the mere thought of being gossip fodder sent a shiver straight through her.
“You okay?” Wyatt asked, h
aving obviously noticed her sudden stillness.
“Yes.” It was time to break the spell and go to their separate rooms. Of course, she didn’t really want to go back to her room alone. She could’ve stayed there and talked all night. Each little peek into his personality left her wanting more. She’d started to like him, and that wouldn’t do. Not with her secrets. And not with the way he tempted her to abandon all caution.
And then, because he looked skeptical and she didn’t want questions, she said, “Don’t worry. No ghost passed through me, either. Now, if you’re finished, I think we both need some rest. You’ve got yoga in less than six hours, and I’ve got a really busy day tomorrow.”
“The party?” Wyatt asked, falling in beside her as they crossed the kitchen and made their way to the stairs. They weren’t touching, but she could feel him anyway. Her body seemed to pitch toward him, eager for any accidental touch.
Trip must’ve mentioned the engagement party to Wyatt. “Yes. On top of my other obligations, I’ve got to finish and deliver the party cupcakes, too. Tomorrow night you’ll be on your own if you get hungry after dinner.”
That thought made her a little sad. She might prefer to cook Wyatt eggs than attend a loud party, except that this was one of her best friend’s parties, and she truly did want to celebrate Kelsey’s joy.
“Will it be a big event?” Wyatt asked.
“Depends on your definition. There’ll only be about fifty guests, but it will be an all-out affair. Kelsey’s dreamed of getting married since I’ve known her. She just got engaged on Halloween and is already moving full steam ahead.”
“Afraid Trip will get cold feet?”
“No. She just wants to get on with it and start a family.” Emma shrugged. Hopefully the marriage would last longer than the engagement. Truthfully, despite Emma’s mother’s tales of her courtship with Emma’s dad, Emma had no real memory of whether her dad had ever been as wild about her mom as Trip seemed to be about Kelsey. “You kind of have to know her to get it, I suppose. She’s quite the romantic. Always has been.”
“Are you going with Andy?” Wyatt’s casual tone caused her to pause.
“No. He’ll probably catch a ride with Avery and Grey.” She noticed Wyatt had begun to follow her up to the third floor. “You missed your stop.”
“I’ll walk you to your door so I can ward off surprise ghost attacks.” He winked, so she didn’t argue. He hadn’t been flirting, yet the hairs on her neck tingled in anticipation of something she couldn’t quite define. Might he try to kiss her? Suddenly she wished she’d grabbed the honey pot from the pantry. Oooh, bad, bad Emma. Then again, her mom wasn’t around to notice the messy sheets or missing honey. Maybe they could be together again without anyone getting hurt.
When they arrived at her room, Wyatt said, “Trip invited me to the party. How about we go together?”
Stunned and—ridiculous as it might be—a wee bit disappointed he hadn’t stolen a kiss, her mind blanked. “S-sure.”
“Perfect.” Wyatt flashed that brilliant, toothy smile, and for a second, she wanted to rescind her consent, sensing the growing danger of socializing with him in public. Alexa had been aloof and detached, playing a game. But Emma’s soul had always been a bit like an open wound, absorbing everything and often smarting. She may put on a brave face, but her heart had no shield against Wyatt Lawson. “It’s a date.”
Before she could refute that designation, he added, “Thanks for the late-night snack, Emma. Sweet dreams.”
Then he turned and jogged down the stairs, leaving her yearning for something she absolutely should not be considering.
She waited until she heard his door close before going into her room and collapsing on her bed. Touching her palm to her cheek, the warmth in her face didn’t surprise her. In the silence, her heartbeat pounded out an upbeat tempo. Restlessly she shifted, her hands now brushing across her tightening breasts and down her stomach.
Flushed and heated, she rolled over and pulled the box of books from under her bed. After staring at the cover, she turned to page forty-two—the first of the good parts—and began reading, except this time it was Wyatt, not Dallas, coming to life.
Wyatt slid his arms into the sleeves of his brother’s gray blazer. “Thanks for the loan. I hadn’t packed anything this nice.”
Ryder shrugged. “It’s a little long on you.”
Bluntness—one of the consequences of Ryder’s TBI.
“You love any excuse to remind me that you’re taller than me, don’t you?” Wyatt teased.
Ryder shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You sure you don’t want to come. Trip said it’d be fine.” Wyatt adjusted his shirt collar. “Wouldn’t you like a night out? Like old times.”
“Crowds and music give me headaches now.” Ryder’s mouth set in a firm line, and Wyatt immediately regretted his thoughtless remark.
“I feel lousy leaving you here alone. What will you do?”
“I’m going to a p-pottery class.”
Wyatt’s head snapped toward his brother. “Pottery?”
“Emma suggested it because it’s peaceful and might fire up the creative parts of my brain.” Ryder glanced at the platter of snacks by his bed. “She also made me some food after she got back from delivering all those cupcakes.”
“She’s full of surprises,” Wyatt said, discomfited by the fact that Emma and Ryder still had private conversations.
“She’s nice.” Ryder looked at Wyatt. “Don’t . . .”
“Don’t what?” Wyatt’s shoulders stiffened.
“You know.” Ryder peered over the top of his sunglasses, something he rarely did. Seeing a hint of his brother’s blue eyes fixed on him set Wyatt back a step. “Don’t treat her like one of your g-groupies.”
Unexpected. Wyatt almost asked if Ryder had a crush on her, but he stopped himself. He told himself he didn’t want to embarrass his brother, but the truth was, he didn’t want to know. Preserving his ignorance might lessen whatever guilt he would feel if something were to develop between him and Emma, which Wyatt could no longer pretend he didn’t want to explore, even if it meant taking chances right under Mari’s nose.
“I don’t think she’s the one you need to worry about. She barely tolerates me.” He cocked an eyebrow. At least that statement had been truthful. Hell, for all he knew, Emma liked Ryder. She certainly took more interest in him. A scowl seized Wyatt’s face.
“I didn’t think you’d go out this month, w-with training and all.” Ryder didn’t hide the censure in his tone.
“I won’t drink or stay out late. I just need to take a break from thinking about competition.”
“What will you do about Mari?” Ryder asked.
“What about Mari?”
“I heard her talking to Jim. She wants s-some of this on film. ‘Human interest’ stuff, social life and possible romantic undertones,” he finished, trying to imitate Mari’s clipped voice.
“Oh, shit. Emma will freak. I’ve got to put a stop to that.” He slapped Ryder’s shoulder. “See you when I get home.”
Wyatt strode across the lobby to where Mari stood with a camera-ready Jim. Holding up his hand, he said, “Stop!”
Mari tossed Jim a look that warned him not to go far. “Wyatt, you need to let me do my job.”
“This documentary is about my comeback, not my personal life.” Wyatt rested his hands on his hips, feeling uncomfortable in the jacket.
“This documentary is about you,” Mari replied. “You are the reason people will want to watch it. Yes, the comeback story is the anchor, but you are the subject. So if you choose to do charity work, or if you go on a date with a girl you meet along the journey, like it or not, that is part of your story.”
“Emma never agreed to having her life and friends exploited.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Please, Mari. Besides, this isn’t a date. We were both invited to the same party. We’re just driving over together. That’s it.”
True statement, althou
gh a part of him hoped for something more, even though he knew he shouldn’t.
He heard Jim clear his throat. When he glanced over, he saw the camera light on. Jim had started taping despite Wyatt’s protest. Wyatt rotated further and saw Emma descending the stairs. His jaw sagged open, and Mari and Jim faded into the background as he took in the gorgeous vision in emerald green.
Gone was the nondescript clothing she’d worn for the past week. Her fitted dress had some kind of sheer overlay and sleeves, embellished with an occasional pop of beading. She’d pulled the front sections of her hair back in sparkly combs, and styled the rest into long, loopy curls that softly framed her face. The short skirt of her dress revealed toned thighs and calves that tapered into classic nude pumps.
Glossy lipstick clung to her lips, which were plump and kissable and made his body temperature spike. Her green eyes looked brighter surrounded by a hint of charcoal liner. Although everything about her still retained a demure tone, she looked sexy and womanly and very, very tempting. An odd sense of déjà vu passed through his mind, as if he’d seen her this way before, but it passed before he could pinpoint it.
“Driving over together my ass,” Mari muttered for his ears only.
He shot her an irritated glance before turning back to Emma. “You look beautiful.”
She did, and again he wished no one were around so he could tempt her, test her, touch her. The need raged inside, but he tamped it down.
Emma flashed a nervous smile. “Thanks. I didn’t expect to see you in a jacket.”
Wyatt tugged at the lapel. “Stole it from my brother.”
Emma offered Jim and his camera an awkward wave. “Just don’t steal the spotlight from Kelsey. This is her night.”
“If it gets bad, I’ll hide out in the corner,” Wyatt promised, reaching for her hand. When she clasped it, his whole body came alive. For a second, he didn’t move, shocked by the fact that he’d reached for her, and that she’d let him. A sweet victory indeed.
“It’s fine to capture whatever you want on film here,” Emma said, “but you cannot come to the party. I won’t let you usurp my best friend’s special night.”